


Why Are We Still Here?

by KanraTheTeddyB3ar



Series: A Little Love [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, i just hope you guys don't absolutely hate it, ngl i teared up writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanraTheTeddyB3ar/pseuds/KanraTheTeddyB3ar
Summary: They were home.





	Why Are We Still Here?

She’s tried reading the books on the shelves. She cannot touch them.

 

The fire sometimes goes out, and she cannot relight it. It irritates her greatly. What is the point of this room if she cannot  _ do anything but sit?  _

 

She glares out of the window for hours at a time. Perhaps days. She isn’t sure anymore. She debates on leaving, but she fears what she may find. Who knows what lurks beyond that oh so familiar door. She was too the point where she knew every grain on the aged wood without having to touch it.

Then, that idle thought from so long ago, rings in her head. To lay down on her bed, to shut her eyes, and sleep. One last time. She’d like that. She missed laying down on a soft bed, surrounded by all manner of softer pillows, the curtains sometimes billowing like the dresses she wore on windy days.

 

Yes, she’d like to lay down and sleep.

 

It feels like no sooner had she shut her eyes that she’s ripped awake. Immediately she’s up and off the bed, face to face with a woman. It’s no one she recognizes, but the dress looks like a low quality version of her own.

 

“Who’re you?” The woman asks, with the most odd accent Morgana had ever had. And then, she feels it.

 

Air, rushing into and out of her lungs. The wind coming through one of the windows. Her heart, threatening to beat out of her chest.

 

Her heart. Her heart, her heart, her heart. Beating, beating, beating, and she wants to laugh.

 

“Listen, there’s only one Morgana on staff, so who’re you?” The shrill voice drowns her in reality. And she looks the woman in the eye, a picture of grace and nobility that she’d once been before.

 

“ _ I  _ am Morgana Pendragon,” she states it, and it is overwhelming to say her name aloud. “What year is it?”

 

“What year is…” The shrill woman blinks, but Morgana pushes past into the hall. The courtyard. She had to get to the courtyard.

 

The steps are so familiar. Along the way, she notes the torches are unlit, when they were usually lit at all hours of the day. They didn’t even look usable, more so for display. Even the banners carrying the Pendragon crest looked much too new, too foreign. Just what had happened to the castle while she was dead?

 

Now there was a funny thought.

 

The door to the courtyard is already open, sparsely filled with men, women, and children in odd clothing. The sun is near blinding as she goes down familiar steps.  _ Everything  _ is so familiar and so foreign at the same time. Then, she sees them.

 

The knights, looking about in awe and confusion. She wants to wave, to reveal herself to them, but then she remembers. They would still look upon her as an enemy, even in this place, wherever or  _ whenever  _ it was.

 

To her left, a gasp. Gwen, standing in a rich red velvet dress. Their eyes caught for a moment, and Morgana’s stomach sank. A moment of animosity, and then she walked forward.

 

Arms reached out, a smile appearing, dark eyes filled with kindness and forgiveness. Morgana sobbed, a wretched sound, as she embraced her dearest friend. A former servant, a fellow queen, a former enemy, now simply her dearest friend.

 

A throat clearing, the two women part, but not for long as Arthur pulls them in. She notes, for a moment, that tears are on his cheeks. It was when the knights joined in that she felt at home. She was home, alive and home, with those who had cared for her most.

 

As they parted, dissolving into laughter, all chattering all at once, she notes the presence of an elderly man. He stood only a few feet away, and yet there was something familiar. Especially around the…

 

_ Him _ .

 

She parts from them, her steps slow. A call behind her, but she knows they’ll understand soon enough. He looked so aged, not at all how she last remembered him. Yet, with one touch, her hand on his cheek, the beard fell way, the gray hair shortening to black. And there he was, both as she remembered, and as she did not.

 

Merlin. Her Merlin. Her friend, her enemy, her destiny and doom. The man she reviled and the man she loved.

 

She holds him close, too close, but his arms cling to her frame all the same. His head buried in her neck for a moment. Her fingers tangle in his hair  as she lowers his head, their foreheads touching.

 

Him and her. Hearts beating as one. Light and Darkness, Destiny and Doom. Useless words, all words.

 

She was home.  _ He  _ was home. Her  _ friends  _ were home. Nothing could change that.

  
They were  _ home _ .

**Author's Note:**

> And voila, the end to this series. Hope you guys enjoyed/continue to enjoy.
> 
> EDIT: feel like I should mention that I might share this series to my tumblr, greenbeanbich.tumblr.com , so look out for me/that there!


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